The Summer of 1972
by fyfytj
Summary: A grown-up Samantha reflects on the pact made with her friends in 1970, how it's defined the bond of their group in the many years since, and the even more tumultuous summer of 1972: their last summer before entering high school.
1. Chapter 1: The Pact

The summer of 1972 started off without a hitch. School had just let out, and with the anticipation of high school upon us, we hardly looked back.

Ever since the summer of 1970, the summer of "Dear Johnny" and my parents separation, the four of us had grown more and more independent from each other. But none of the four of us, I had imagined, had forgotten our pact to always be there for one another when we needed it. It was a promise that would be fulfilled several times in the many years since:

\- Teeny's first wedding in '77, which of course ended in a divorce (or was "annulled" as she puts it). And her second wedding. And her third...

\- Chrissy's marriage to Mort in '83, and the birth of their little girl just a few years ago.

\- Roberta's brother being shipped off to Vietnam in the spring of '71.

\- The publication of my first book, _The Alien Next Door_ , back in '85.

Anyway, in the two years since making the pact, however, we had started to drift apart. What had originally been a tight-knit quartet had slowly brached off into two pairs; Teeny and I on one end, and Roberta and Chrissy on the other. Chalk it up to mutually changing interests I guess, but there was definitely no animosity. We even hung out, in the treehouse on occasion, but it was just... not the same since that last seance in the graveyard. But still, Teeny and I were (almost) just as excited about summer vacation as ever considering we were going into high school the following year, and never ruled out the possibility of hanging out with Chrissy and Roberta whenever we could.

And with that vague hope in the back of our minds, we began three months of freedom that would lead us throughout a truly unforgettable summer.


	2. Chapter 2: An Unexpected Reunion

1

On a humid night in mid-June, Teeny and I, with nothing else to do, took our bikes to the only theater in the Gaslight Addition to see _Last House on the Left_ , a new movie which had gained quite a reputation in school as the most disturbing thing ever; we _had_ to check it out. On the way we saw countless other kids our age out and about; stray fireworks sounded off in the distance in early celebration for the upcoming 4th of July, but our ride was otherwise made in verbal silence until Teeny suddenly spoke up.

"We should've asked them to come along." I of course knew who "they" were.

"Yeah, I guess we should've. Don't know if they would come though. Haven't seen them in a while, actually."

This was true; in fact, I couldn't remember off the top of my head the last time I had seen either one of them, let alone the four of us being together.

As I said earlier, in August of '71 Roberta's older brother Mike was shipped off to Vietnam, annointed by Uncle Sam to massacre villages of civilians in the name of democracy. That's when our tight-knit group really began to change as she withdrew and Chrissy went with her. Since then we were lucky if three of us ended up in the tree house at the same time. But never all four.

It wasn't long before the theater became visible in the distance (Shelby was and is a small town after all), and any continuation of the conversation was cut short. We pulled into a dark alleyway next to the theater to stash our bikes, which provided a nice hiding spot from the bustling activity around us. Satisfied, we turned around to where we entered and started ba-

Teeny made a sudden, short utterance of surprise as I saw her shadow fall into the darkness of the alley ground.

"Goddamnit!"

"You okay?" I asked with a chuckle as I took her hand.

"...Yeah. Just tripped over another bike..." she responded, sounding a little confused.

I could barely make out the silhouette of a bicycle laying on the ground near where we entered. Looking more closely, I noticed another bike laying next to it.

"Very considerate" Teeny piped up at the sight.

We stepped over the haphazardly-placed bike and turned the corner toward the theater. Even amidst the crowd around us I had taken to looking down ahead of my feet as I walked, stepping over cracks and thinking about a short story I had been secretly working on when I heard a familiar - and missed - voice call out my and Teeny's names from up ahead. Looking up and ahead confirmed what I'd assumed as a smile spread across my face. Chrissy was waving at us unnecessarily, with Roberta to her left, both dressed for summer and now in front of us.

"How have you guys been?" Roberta asked the two of us with a warm smile. Her hair was shorter, about shoulder length, but free-flowing rather than in a pony tail as usual.

"Pretty good." Teeny replied. "Just took a fall in that alley back there over some idiot's bike."

"Hey, those are _our_ bikes!" Chrissy answered indignantly. I looked at her in quiet amusement and noticed that she was now slightly taller than Roberta since I'd seen her, and had lost a little weight in that same time.

The three of us broke out in short, inexplicable laughter. Chrissy, though initially looking around confusedly, soon cracked a smile of her own.

"So... where were you two coming from?" I asked once the laughter died down.

"We were trying to get into the _Last House on the Left_ showing, but they wouldn't let us in." Roberta answered. "My brother Dave said it's some real disturbing shit, so it's no wonder, I guess."

"No kidding; we were going to go see it too!" Teeny said. In a brief moment, she and Roberta gave a mischievous, as if they saw their own thoughs on each others' faces. "Maybe if we buy tickets to another movie," Roberta began with a smirk, "we can slip past the usher and get into _Last House_..."

That sounded like a good plan to me, and with a nod of agreement we started toward the theater. "Hey guys, I don't think so. If they catch us..." Chrissy started to protest, despite trailing behind us.

2

The movie was ninety minutes of uneasy tension, sickening violence and over the top blood and gore that gave me nightmares for days and inspired the first short story I ever got published. It was glorious.

3

Roberta was the first one to spot them. We had come out of the theater side by side and were talking about our favorite parts of the movie when she suddenly shouted "Hey, creep! Whose bike do you think you're riding?"

I looked in the direction she shouted and saw three boys, our age or a little older, riding our bikes except for mine; I guessed it was still in the alley. But Roberta seemed to have gotten their attention. Before we could approach them, however, they had ridden over and were circling us.

"Well what do we have here, guys?" One of them said with a wise-ass grin that lit up his face and tipped him off as the leader of the trio. "Two brunettes, a blondie and a redhead. Ooh, and look at the rack on the blonde, too!"

I took a quick glance at Teeny to see her looking at the ground in front of her, her cheeks about as red as her shirt. "And what do _we_ have? Three faggots that steal from girls?" Roberta shot back, making that annoying grin falter just a little before regaining its composure.

"Now that's no way to speak, especially to a few guys just lifting your bikes before somebody else does. Your mother should teach you to be more grateful or something, Girly..."

I didn't dare look at Roberta's reaction, nor did I need to; she planted her fist into his face almost before we knew what was happening, and by the time we realized, he and Roberta's bike were already on the ground, both ours and the boys' reactions one of shock and disorientation with the escalation of the situation.

Breathing heavily, he propped himself up on his elbows and kicked the bike away from his legs without ending his death stare up at Roberta. One side of his mouth was leaking a small line of blood. The other had raised in a half smirk which further lit up the glaring anger in his eyes. "You're gonna seriously regret that, you little bit-"

"Is there a problem here, everybody?" I shot my head at the source of the husky-voiced shout and saw Officer Nell, a local police patrolman, slowly approaching from across the street us with hands hooked into the sides of his belt.

"No sir... no problem at all," The bully answered in a phonily respectful tone as he stood up and placed his hands in his pockets. The grin had apparently gone in hiding along with his confidence, "just fell off her bike, that's all."

" _Her_ bike?" Officer Nell questioned. Turning his attention to Roberta, he asked "Is there a problem here, Ms. Martin?"

"No sir," she shot a dirty glance at the bully, " _no problem at all_ ".

"Right then. Well regardless, I want you boys to go your separate ways. Before a problem _does_ start."

The boys took the order first, stepping off our bikes obediently and forming a line behind their leader, who didn't look back as he walked away without protest.

Officer Nell addressed all of us. "Now you come find me if those boys give any of your trouble, you hear?" We all nodded and agreed that we would do so. "Right then, I'll be on my way. Good night, girls." And with that he turned back the way he came.

4

It was twenty minutes later and fully dark out by the time we reached the neighborhood. We would've gotten back faster but instead walked our bikes home rather than rode. I'm not entirely sure why; maybe the stink of those asshole bullies tainted them for the time being?

It was a nice walk, though, since it gave us more time to catch up. Roberta told us that her brother had been shipped off the Vietnam the previous Spring. She didn't have much to say about herself otherwise, other than that she had gotten to repaint her room a few months ago.

Chrissy, meanwhile, was dealing with her mother recently beginning a relationship, the first man in her life following the death of her father several years prior. She wasn't happy about this (I could empathize), but explained that her bitterness over the situation was soothed somewhat when he got her a puppy for her birthday in back March.

"I guess I had been in a tolerable mood since then... at least until meeting those _bullies_ back there" Chrissy said, changing the subject abruptly. I was looking downward and noticed that Roberta's fists reflexively clenched at the mention of them (him); it must have been the "mother" comment that got so under her skin, so I decided not to ackowledge Chrissy's comment.

"Well how about the Fourth coming up soon? You all want to get together for the fireworks show?" Teeny asked suddenly, as if to change the subject.

"That sounds great!" said Chrissy.

"Yeah, me too." said I.

"Sure." said Roberta. And several seconds later "Well this is me." referring to her house.

"Alright Roberta, see you on the Fourth!" Chrissy said, louder than necessary.

"Right. See ya, guys." She replied, smiling a little as she walked her bike up the drive-way.

We walked out of her earshot before Teeny said "She'll be more enthusiastic once she cools off. And I'd hope so, too. My parents got me this unbelievable set of fireworks, you guys won't know what hit you!"

She had no idea how correct she would turn out to be.


	3. Chapter 3: Fourth of July Weekend, 1972

July 1st, 1972; the Gaslight Addition was a hotbed of evening festive activity, not only with bright fireworks keeping the sky lit up to a mass of dazzled onlookers, but with near constant explosions sounding off all around town. You could practically get away with anything with all these distractions happening at once.

We were taking advantage of the distractions. Teeny had lifted four beers from her house amidst a party with her parents country club friends, and I a few cigarettes from my mom's purse before she went over to my grandma's with Angela for the evening. Roberta and Chrissy were supposed to meet us at the tree house, where we planned to light off our fireworks, smoke and drink.

Teeny and I walked to Chrissy's house, during which several topics of conversation came up: the movie we had seen with Roberta and Chrissy nearly a week ago. Jimmy McMally, a boy from school Teeny thought was cute (I thought his eyes were too close together and he wore the same shirt to school every day, but to each their own, I guess). Eventually talk became scarce, and I came out with the first thing that occured to me.

"How about those dicks outside the movie? Are they new around here or something?"

"If not, I've never run into them," Teeny said, shifting the plastic bag full of beer cans to another hand, "thankfully."

Several seconds of silence followed before she spoke again. "Roberta certainly got riled up over him."

"Well yeah; mentioning her mom seems to do that."

"Right. I'm sure that's all there was to it." She was smirking.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you didn't see how passionate she got over that little exchange? I haven't seen that in her since before she broke it off with Scott last summer.

Now that she mentioned it, I too had seen that look in Roberta's eyes on a few rare occasions. An expression that would easily be considered simple anger if for the hints of confusion beneath the surface, clouding her true feelings. I didn't _think_ I'd seen it that time outside the theater, though.

"If you say so, but I didn't see it."

"Whatever then."

The distance between us and Chrissy's house was closed rather suddenly; ime flies during stimulating conversation, huh? We slipped the beers through the side fence leading into the backyard, noting the light coming from inside the tree house visible over the fence, and rang the front door bell. While waiting, Teeny elbowed my side lightly, and I elbowed back when a slight smirk; it was a dumb little game we used to play sometimes when someone talking to us had their back turned, or when waiting for a door to be answered. The two of us jabbed each other playfully for the next few seconds until light began coming through the opening door, and we stopped our game immediately as Judy, Chrissy's mom, greeted us with her usual doting pleasance.

"Hi, girls! How are things going?" Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, which didn't surprise me; I'd heard she didn't exactly approve of us hanging out with Chrissy. "Oh, they're going, Mrs. DeWitt," Teeny answered slyly.

"Well that's good. Come in, come in, Chrissy and Roberta are out back" she said, ushering us in with a wave and shutting the door behind us. "You two know the way." And with that, she sat on the sofa and continued watching a _Laugh-In_ rerun, so we let outselves through the house and out the back door to the yard. Red, white and blue fireworks went off in the sky from out front while the smell of a neighbor's barbecue permeated the early evening air. I climbed up the ladder while Teeny retrieved the bag of "party favors" from next to the yard fence. Knocking on the bottom of the trap door three times, I barely drew my fist back before Chrissy opened the door and cheerily greeted me in a way similar to her mother not two minutes ago, but I could feel the genuine friendliness toward me from Chrissy that her mother lacked.

"What's up guys? I'm gonna leave this door open for Teeny; she'll be up in a minute." The tree house walls were adorned with posters of Donny Osmond and David Cassidy, somewhat illuminated by a single lantern in the middle of the floor. It occured to me then how long it must have been since my last time here. It also occured to me that smoke was billowing from an ashtray, from which Roberta picked up a cigarette and took a drag.

"You gonna stay there on the ladder all night?" She asked with an amused grin.

"Yeah, move it or lose it, bitch!" I heard Teeny agree good naturedly from under me.

The passage of roughly an hour found us all laying on the floor around the lantern, our legs laying over each other due to the cramped space. The time was passed talking, laughing, and telling stories. Our beer cans were drunk, crushed and discarded in the bag we brought them in, and our cigarettes were used up butts in the ash tray (Chrissy declined her smoke but drank her beer with the rest of us; I was a bit proud of her to be honest).

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth"

"Exactly how big _are_ your boobs now?"

"As big as my pudding balloons permit, I guess." That got a laugh out of us all.

"Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to light a firecracker in your shoe."

"...mmm... maybe another time. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Look out the window and we'll put a firecracker in the shoe of the first person you see."

Chrissy got up, playing along sarcastically, and poked her head out of the window giving the best view of the Gaslight Addition. I couldn't see her face, but her head seemed to shake in apparent confusion for a few seconds of silence.

"Chrissy, what's wrong?" I asked.

She answered without looking away. "Uh... look at this guys."

From several blocks away, we could see a faint glow coming from the direction of Spencer Junior High School, our old middle school. "Fireworks?" I asked to nobody in particular. Just then, sirens began blaring outside, rising to a gradual peak in volume before lowering as it passed, apparently on its way toward the now larger glowing.

"No," Roberta said after several seconds, "there's no firework explosion, and it's getting. I think it's an actual fire."

"Maybe we should get a closer look..."

We made it to the school ten minutes later, having walked the distance at a brisk pace and having noticed the increasing presence of black smoke in the air as we walked. The fireworks had become less frequent in the sky, and the streets seemed strangely emptier than they were only an hour before, when we arrived at the tree house. I soon saw why; a giant crowd, mostly of kids, had formed at the school. And there _was_ a fire, all right.

Firefighters were tending to the now somewhat dissipating flames that ate through the nearly the entire right side of the building. If I wasn't mistaken, I think I could make out the remains of my former math class from across the street. If there was more to see beyond the smokey debris, we weren't going to see it from behind the caution tape surrounding the school from across the street.

I looked away and behind myself, in disbelief. Chrissy was covering most of her face aside from her eyes, which were swimming with streaming tears as she simply looked on. Teeny was looking down at her shoes, probably trying to hold back her own tears. And Roberta, while not crying, was looking around stone-faced and swallowing audibly despite the bustling noise all around us.

I suddenly felt a rough push on my left arm as people were pushing briskly through the crowd, causing me to bump into Roberta. We both looked up and I realized that it was the boys from the theater, now only inches in front of us. They didn't stop moving, but were slowed by the thickness of the crowd, giving just enough time for several seconds of eye contact between us. What I saw confused me in two ways: one was the similar look in all of their eyes, a subdued look of fear, shock and paranoia that they all shared, and the other thing was the lingering look the leader (who gave Roberta such trouble before) gave to Roberta, a look less readable than the mix of emotion apparent in his eyes, which she returned fully until he and his lackies passed by completely. In spite of everything, I felt a smirk touch my lips briefly; I think I had just gotten a glimpse of what Teeny mentioned earlier.

A sudden rumbling shook the ground we stood on. People around us were screaming, and my smile went away along with all the blood in my face, from what it felt like. It seemed like the entire crowd, myself included, shot our attention in the same direction as the left half of the building kinked briefly in the middle before collapsing into itself before our eyes. With an near deafening mix of rumbling, crashing, and smashing, each of the building's six floors rapidly pancaked into each other, sending a huge storm of smoke and debris suddenly billowing out from the site and toward all of us with frightening speed.

The crowd began running every which way in a dangerous stampede, and instinct took over etiquette as I took Roberta's hand in mine and yanked in with me as I ran the way we came. "Come on guys. Now!" I tried shouting above the overwhelming noise and chaos. I hardly remember the next minute or so, just the adrenaline-hazed confusion and the panic, but the next thing I do remember was stopping at a corner and leaning my shoulder against the pole of a stop sign to catch my breath. My heart was pumping a mile a minute, while my temples felt like they were throbbing along with it. I had a painful stitch in my left side and pressure in my right hand; Roberta was gripping it tight, with Chrissy holding onto her other hand and Teeny onto Chrissy's. We must've looked silly in that moment, holding hands in a line formation, panting like dogs, but the pursuit of the debris cloud made our appearance inconsequential in that moment.

We listened to our collective breaths hitching for a minute before gradually recovering, gave back our hands to each other, then spent the next several minutes at the corner in standing in silence, listening to distant sirens, watching to see if anybody would come from the direction of the site, processing what had just happened. It was Roberta who interrupted our silence.

"Some Fourth of July, huh?" She came up with, smiling.

"Some Fourth of July." Chrissy answered, almost smiling through her tear-lined face.

"Ditto". Teeny agreed.

"Same he-" I tried to say, but the terrible rumbling noise repeated, followed by the distinctive crashing of an implosion; the rest of the school must've collapsed in that moment.


End file.
